“You’re on a date, I hear,” Dad said.
“I am,” she said. “Hopefully it won’t be a mistake. Or a bad idea. Or a blunder.”
Levi sighed and stared into the middle distance.
“I’m sure it won’t be,” her father said. “Well, you go have a good time, honey. I’ll be here if you need me.”
“Thanks, Dad.” She dropped her voice to a whisper. “Are you here alone?”
“I’m meeting Lorena.”
“Oh.” She tried not to flinch. So far, she’d screened and dismissed the women of eCommitment/SeniorLove, and her efforts to engage Cathy Kennedy in conversation about her sainted father had fallen with a thud. “Okay, well...there are other fish in the lake, Dad.”
“What kind of fish?”
“Fish who don’t wear cheetah-print bras with see-through shirts and ask what your bank balance is,” she said, referencing Sunday’s dinner conversation, which had caused Mrs. Johnson to growl audibly.
Dad still looked clueless. “Never mind, Dad. Just don’t get married without checking with me first.”
Her father laughed. “Listen to her, Levi. Half the time I have no idea what she’s talking about.”
“I know the feeling,” Levi said.
Ooh. “Well. My date awaits.”
“Have fun,” Levi said.
“Yes, honey, have fun!” Dad said. “I’m ready for more grandchildren. Just keep that in mind.” He pinched her chin. “Levi, don’t I have the prettiest daughters?”
“You do,” he answered, his glance flicking over Faith, pausing for just a microsecond on her boobage. “Got your list?” he added.
Faith didn’t deign to answer (but, yes, it was in her purse). She took a calming breath and went to the third booth. There was Jeremy, looking utterly beautiful, talking to Ryan, she assumed.
“Faith!” Jeremy jumped up, kissed her cheek, his smile as warm and bright as if it had been years since they’d seen each other and not hours. “You look beautiful, as always. Let me introduce Ryan Hill, my accountant.”
Ryan was adorable. Go, Jeremy! Dimples, honey-colored hair, blue eyes. He stood up and shook her hand, smiling. “Great to meet you, Faith.” And he had a drawl! Colleen was right! Oh, sigh!
“I’ll leave you two alone,” Jeremy said. “Have a nice time!” He grinned happily and wandered off toward the bar.
“Super guy,” Ryan said.
“Absolutely,” Faith agreed.
“So you two were engaged, he said?”
“Yes,” Faith admitted, glad to have it out of the way. “We met in high school, before he, um...came out.”
The waitress, one of the many O’Rourke cousins, came over, bringing Faith a glass of Blue Heron’s dry Riesling, courtesy of Colleen, who waved from behind the bar. Ryan asked what was good here, and Faith recommended the nachos grande, which she hadn’t had since Tuesday and was hence suffering serious withdrawal. “Sounds great,” Ryan said. “If you like them, I’m sure I will, too.” Oh! Southern charm!
They exchanged pleasantries until the food arrived—jobs, college, where they grew up—and not a red flag to be found. In fact, Faith was feeling the tingle, oh, yeah. Ryan’s cuteness, combined with Jeremy’s recommendation, had her feeling truly hopeful for the first time since Clint Bundt, the Lying Liar of Lie-Land. No, Ryan was definitely her best prospect since gay Rafael (who’d just texted her a picture of the hors d’oeuvres choices they were considering for their wedding, wanting her opinion).
Definitely better than Levi, who was an ass-pain.
Nope. Not another thought of Levi would be entertained tonight, no way.
As if reading her mind, Levi looked at her from across the bar, those sleepy green eyes causing certain parts of her anatomy to tighten in a hot, slow clench.
Damn. Colleen was right. Levi Cooper was sex on a stick. Sex against the wall, on the floor, on the table, on...other naughty surfaces...dirty, sweaty, delicious sex...not that Faith had any firsthand experience with that. But she could imagine it, quite graphically, in fact. Especially while staring at the man in question.
Oopsy. Her mouth was slightly open, and she was possibly a little flushed. She forced herself to look at her date, who smiled politely.
Right. Concentrate on the perfectly nice man who actually seems to like you, Faith. “So,” she said. “Let’s cut to the chase. I’m the youngest of four, two sisters, one brother. My dad is sitting at the bar over there, so don’t get fresh. I love my job, my grandparents, Ben and Jerry, and my dog, who is, I should tell you up front, the greatest canine the world has ever known.”
“Can’t wait to meet him,” Ryan said. “Keep on going, Miss Faith.”
She smiled. “Well, in my free time, I like to eat out, I do Pilates—” well, she intended to do Pilates, one of these days “—and I love violent, scary movies and romantic comedies. I’d like to be in a serious, committed relationship with a man who’s not married, not a deadbeat dad, has a job and isn’t gay. With me so far?”
“Are you kidding?” Ryan said with another fantastic dimpled smile. “I’m halfway in love with you already.”
“Get outta town, you big liar,” Faith said. Yay, Jeremy! She grinned, just happening to catch a glimpse of Levi. He was watching. That’s right! Suck it up, Chief, she thought, finishing her wine. “Your turn, Ryan.”
“Not so fast, there. Jeremy tells me you have a list,” Ryan said. He tore off a hunk of nachos and held it up to her mouth. Huh. Feeding her already? Was that icky, or adorable?
Adorable, Faith, adorable. Still, a bit awkward, since the sour cream was a little drippy. But still. A good sign (she hoped).
“I do have a list,” Faith said, wiping her mouth. “It’s sort of...Machiavellian.”
“Sounds fun.” Ryan gave her a steamy look.
“Really?”
“Mmm-hmm. Give it to me, baby.”
“Oh...yeah, okay, I can do that.” She paused. “Now?”
“Sure.”
“Okay.” She opened her purse and took out the well-worn list. “This is just the big stuff, you know, to make sure I shouldn’t run screaming from the bar.”
Another dimpled smile. “Please don’t, Miss Faith.”
He was so cute. “Okay, so...have you ever been in prison?”
“Not yet.”
“Yay! You have an A so far. Next question: Have you fathered any children, and do you pay child support, if so?”
“No kids. Not yet.”
Another excellent answer. Not yet, implying that he wanted them in the future. He was an A+ now.
“Okay, last major question, and then we can get into things like moonlit walks and old movies—”
“I love old movies. And moonlit walks.”
Well, you couldn’t have everything. “How many women have you slept with?”
Ryan had to think about that one. “Uh...ten?”
Ten? Ten! That seemed like a lot. Then again, if you figured he was thirty-two years old (thank you, Google), and say he’d first had sex around age seventeen (because with those dimples, he wasn’t getting out of high school a